


i need to know

by tiredguitarist



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: F/M, I skipped the first verse because it's kind of irrelevant but, M/M, Please be safe, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide mention, Things We Used to Share - Thomas Sanders, Thoughts of depression, Underage Drinking, enjoy heartbreak, fat fucking trigger warning on the whole thing, sex mention, todd needs help: a story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:22:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredguitarist/pseuds/tiredguitarist
Summary: What did you do?--a songfic inspired by Thomas Sanders' "Things we Used to Share". Todd is trying to move on after Neil's death, Charlie just wants to help, and Chris is surprisingly insightful.





	i need to know

**Author's Note:**

> please proceed this fic with caution!! there are some graphic depictions of suicide, as well as some alluding to sex. also a drinking and smoking warning, but like, it's dps, what'd you expect.

**_No more fireworks / No more compass_ **

 

Todd feels utterly _lost._ He now walks through the halls of Welton as if he’s off balance, stumbling and rushing around. He figures he’s been thrown off kilter, and keeps waiting for something to come and center him again, but he knows it won’t. What he’s waiting for has gone, and he took everything with him.

 

Todd could no longer find joy in little things. He stares at his notebook every night, willing to put words on paper. It’s not that he’s feeling _nothing,_ god no, he feels too violently sometimes, letting sobs rip through him in the middle of the night, breath coming in harsh gasps, pillows stained and wet.

 

So no, it’s not that there aren’t feelings to put onto paper, it’s that there’s too many, and none of them make sense, and some of them, _some_ of them Todd can’t bear to write down. It’s like letting a secret out into the world. He fears it will be followed with explosions, that the cut he has so carefully sewn back together after _it_ happened will be ripped wide open. Of course, then, he’s surprised that when he scribbles it out at 3:17 a.m. on the morning of his chemistry exam, the world doesn’t end, and everything sits still and quiet in the walls of Welton.

 

It’s fitting, he thinks, because when has Todd ever done something that matters? How silly of him was it to think that writing out three, simple words onto a clean sheet of paper would change anything.

 

(Even if those _words_ were about the most explosive, influential boy he knew, even if it was because of _him_ that Todd would ever allow himself to think that words could make some sort of difference.)

 

**_You didn’t leave a single butterfly in my stomach._ **

 

Charlie suggests moving on, because he’s _Charlie_ , and Todd isn’t sure if he even really believes that Neil is dead. Todd still confides in him, and sometimes when Charlie is able to slip him a few drinks, Todd will _really_ talk about Neil, Neil and his hands, Neil and his mouth, Neil and his pretty face and pretty words and pretty, pretty sounds. Admitting these things, so openly, and to Charlie, of all people, should make Todd blush, or make his veins burn with shame.

 

But lately, he slurs to his equally intoxicated friend, he hasn’t been able to feel much of that lately, the cringing embarrassment that used to come so easily to him. There isn’t much room for it anymore, and there’s not much _reason_ for it anymore. Charlie only blinks at him for a long, slow, second, before his mouth cracks into a smug grin. He taps his glass against Todd’s.

 

“I’ll drink to that.”

 

“To _what_?” Todd remembers giggling and oh god, did it feel nice to laugh.

 

“Todd Anderson, not embarrassed? It’s a goddamn miracle!”

 

They fell over each other with laughter after that, and Charlie had whispered in his ear about this place, a bar, where men went with men and girls with girls and everybody was happy, and the thought made Todd dizzy with glee.

 

When he woke up the next morning and headed back to Welton, a piece of paper had been slipped into the pocket of his coat, an address scratched in blue ink pen. Todd smiled then, because it was good to have a secret again.

 

He thinks that maybe the men buying him drinks and waving off the fact he didn’t have an ID and whispering in his ear should’ve made him nervous, or scared, but they just made him laugh. Because god, they were stupid, stupid on the safety of this place, stupid on gin and whiskey and how Todd’s face looked innocent enough to be smirked at like that, stupid in the way that they’d get _angry_ when Todd would decline the fancy drink and offer of a good time in a stranger’s home.

 

He knows this isn’t moving on, not really, not in the way he keeps shifting on the bar stool to say something to Neil and, oh yeah, _right_. But he keeps going there, even after it gets shut down. He’ll ride his bike past it on the way to Knox’s house, or stand in front of the empty building and speak poetry to the night sky in a fashion that reminds him of a smiling boy sitting on a radiator and reciting Shakespeare to the early morning light.

 

Todd begins to think there’s no real moving on, not from something like this, so he stops trying. He lets feelings wash over him, and sometimes stays in beds for days at a time, but he’ alive, and Steven argues he’s not really _living,_ but he’s stopped asking God to let him trade places with Neil, so he must be getting _somewhere_.

 

**_You took my spyglass / No knowin’ what lies ahead_ **

 

Todd is floating, drifting, brushing past things but not taking them in. His eyes are glassy and his stutter has smoothed out into a monotone voice of pure boredom. He stumbles blindly through the days, no longer interested in keeping up with his brother's legacy. His grades have slipped, his parents are disappointed, his teachers are worried, and Todd just doesn't _care_ , because his room feels empty when he tries to study, and he can't really keep his eyes focused on the words, anyhow. He has to thank Neil, in some twisted, sick way, for taking off the pressure of his parents' expectations, because once he hears his mother speaking to a neighbor, and she whispers,

 

"I know he's not doing his best, but at least he won't end up like that Perry boy."

 

Something angry had twisted in his gut then, a white rage shooting hot through his veins. He stomped up the stairs to his room and collapsed onto his bed, buried his head in his pillow to keep from screaming. The memory is still ugly and foul in his head, and he knows it'll never quite go away, because how could somebody talk about Neil like that? Neil was everything Todd would never be, could never be without him, but perhaps Neil had left an ounce of his own courage within Todd because later that night he had sat down at the dinner table, put his napkin in his lap, and quietly said, 

 

"Mother, I would appreciate if you wouldn't use my friend's death as an example of failure."

 

His mother had just stared at him, mouth open and eyes blinking rapidly. Of course his father had gotten angry, but Todd simply sat there while his dad yelled, scared that  _everything_ would come spilling out if he stood up to defend himself. 

 

"You know that Perry boy was a fairy, right? A  _queer_?" His father had finally spit. Todd snapped his head up in shock.

 

"W-What? How do you-"

 

"His father found a whole stack of poems under his bed, love poems, about a  _boy."_

 

Todd was speechless then. He raised his head up to look at the ceiling, tears stinging his eyes. He should've known something like this would've happened. They'd both been careless, both been  _stupid_ , but Todd supposes that's what they get for loving each other. He just hates it, because now Neil won't be remembered as the suffering artist who died for his craft, but as the perverted boy who was in love with a forever unnamed face. But Todd knows, and, he thinks, if those poems ever get out, the rest of the Society, and Mr. Keating, will know, too. 

 

He blew a breath up at the chipped paint.

 

He really should have seen this coming. 

 

_**Took my warmth at night, but left a dent in my bed** _

 

He hasn't been sleeping.

 

It's not like he slept very well before, but this is different.

 

He lays awake at night, eyes blank and staring at the empty bed not five feet away from him. 

 

Sometimes Todd will drift off, but he finds it hard to fall asleep without the warmth that used to press at his back. Long before they had even kissed, Neil found Todd crying quietly one night and had quickly wrapped himself around the other boy, murmuring promises of early rising as to not draw suspicion. Todd had been scared, laid deathly still before finding out that Neil hummed in his sleep, and then he was lulled to slumber by a choppy rendition of "Musetta's Waltz".

 

It became a nightly recurrence after, Neil would climb into Todd's bed, or sometimes Todd into Neil's. They would tangle themselves together to fit onto the mattress and fall asleep, breath even and hearts beating in synchronization.

 

(Some nights were sleepless, in good ways, where both lay in the flitting moonlight, sticky and sweaty and dazed, hands sore and limbs relieved from being untwisted and unbent. They would share kisses and cigarettes, falling asleep against each other as the sun bathed their small room in light.)

 

When Todd does sleep, he is relieved to find Neil in his dreams, alive and whole and moving under his hands, warm around his body. His mind replays him Society meetings, but here he is reading, laughing when he stumbles, or not stumbling at all, here he watches Neil more fervently, letting himself trace Neil's shoulder blades dancing under his sweater. Gerard doesn't hit his head, and the radio he and Steven were working on  _works_ , and even in his dreams Knox is drunk on first love but now Todd knows that he is too.

 

His room is cold, he guesses it's always been like this, but now it's unbearable, because Neil was like a goddamn furnace, and though Todd complained, he would press his cold feet against Neil's and find comfort in even suffocating heat. 

 

He pulls his blanket around him and slides his eyes shut. Sleep won't come tonight, but he can at least try. 

 

_**I don't really care/You can keep the things we used to share/But what did you do with my heart?** _

 

Todd writes a poem the day after he gets a letter from Mr. Keating. The letter is short-

 

todd anderson,

i hope you're well, or as well as you can be.

i've been teaching again, but none of my students

are like the boys at welton. tell the others i said

hello.

\- o' captain, my captain

 

-but it's enough. Todd pins it on the wall above his desk and pulls out his notebook. He writes and crosses out and erases until the words hold some meaning. He seals it and sneaks it into the outgoing mail downstairs in the morning. When he whispers over to Knox in science, they smile wickedly at each other before the teacher yells at them. The day after, he walks a little lighter, eats a bit more, and actually laughs when Gerard slips during soccer.

He recites the poem to Neil's empty bed that night.

 

i must tell you

i did begin to fall apart

when you went

and left

and ripped out my heart

but now i'm thriving

laughing

smiling

sinigng

but without you

by my side

i'd hardly call it

living

 

It's not good, not nearly his best work, but he figures its halfway to London already, and he simply lets the words soak into the quiet room. 

 

He's invited to Chris's house for dinner, along with the others, sans Cameron, who had understood that he was no longer welcome into their little group. He accepts, and is relieved at the small party around the table. Dinner goes smoothly, people say things at the right times and laugh when appropriate. It's fine, it's normal, it's a bit boring but it's nice, Todd supposes. After everybody has gone into the den, Chris catches Todd's arms and keeps him in the kitchen.

 

"How are you, Todd?" she asks, and Todd could cry right there.

 

"Terrible. Miserable. And you?" he says breezily. Chris laughs, a pretty and feather-light sound.

 

"Knox was telling me about- about you and Neil," she starts cautiously, and Todd freezes, but let's her go on, "Apparently Neil told Charlie and well, you know Charlie, that boy can't keep a secret to save his life," she giggles, and Todd can't help but smile, "but um- from what he knew, you two really loved each other, and he said he knew a thing or two about loving someone you can't have," she says, and rolls her eyes. Todd laughs.

 

"What I'm trying to say, Todd, is that, your friends are here for you. All of them. Not just Knox."

 

"Thank you, Chris. Thank you so much," Todd says. His throat feels tight, and his eyes burn something terrible.

 

She gives him a watery smile and envelopes him in a hug. He can see why Knox loves her so much, she's incredibly warm and caring, and Todd thinks about Neil but it just makes him hug Chris tighter.  They go and join the others in the den, and the rest of the night goes just as well as dinner, but this time Todd lets himself laugh and smile with his friends, and his chest feels a hundred pounds lighter. Chris gives Todd a knowing little smile before he leaves, and Todd is achingly grateful to have found a friend in her. 

 

_**So no more dreams/Where we pull through/And I can't collect my thoughts/'Cause they're still with you** _

 

Todd is getting better, bit by bit. The rest of his friends take his hasty confession of him and Neil better than he expected, than he deserves. He pulls his grades up, starts to study more, is able to focus in class again. He sleeps more nights than not. Everything is still painfully difficult, and it's always a struggle to get out of bed, but he shrugs and smiles to Neil's side of the room. He's not  _really_ happy, probably never will be again, and he's fine with that. 

 

One night he dreams of a future that could've been.

 

(Leave it to Neil to ruin everything when it's just getting better.  He's still stirring up Todd's life, even six-feet under.)

 

Todd and Neil live together, their shared house stuffed full of art, of posters, of stolen books and records. A fire burns in a brick fireplace, and they sit on the floor drinking wine. Neil is sparkling in the candlelight, and when Todd leans over and kisses him, no one says anything at all. Knox and Chris have a little boy, David, and he runs around the living room, laughing and bubbling. Gerard and Steven sit together on the couch, Charlie joining him and Neil on the floor, Knox and Chris share a love seat. Smiles and laughter comes easy to Todd, as they do to Neil. When he reaches to take Todd's hands, there's no hesitation in any of it at all. 

 

Later, when everyone has left, Neil and Todd lay naked in their bed, bodies pressed together. Neil leaves lazy kisses on Todd's neck, tracing his pulse with the tip of his tongue so he'll shiver. He whispers into the soft skin about giving Todd a ring. Todd's heart stops for a minute until Neil pushes himself up to give him a messy kiss, and Todd tells him that they'll have to start saving money if they want to splurge on something like a ring. Neil giggles into Todd's mouth. He lays his head back on his chest and whispers a sleepy  _I love you_ before drifting off. Todd smiles to himself and kisses the top of Neil's head, falling asleep himself.

 

When Todd wakes, for real, his breath is threatening to choke him. His body burns with anger and sadness and guilt, and he's so goddamn overwhelmed he feels like he's drowning. In the midst of it he reaches for _him_ , says his name desperately into the half deserted room. When nothing happens, he wishes violently that his throat closes after all. He sobs himself back into a fitful sleep.

 

When he wakes up a second time, he begs Gerard to tell Mr. Nolan that he's fallen ill. He thinks it might be the last strangled  _please_ he whispers that makes his friend trudge up to their headmaster's office. He hugs Gerard tightly and slips back into his room. 

 

"You owe me!" Gerard says to the door.

 

"Of course," Todd says back, though deep down he figures he won't ever be able to repay him.

 

He pads to the bathroom quietly during lunch and pulls out Charlie's old straight razor. He'd hid it for whatever reason, saying that the school didn't want the boys shaving, but Todd thinks he just liked having secrets. He tiptoes back to his room, opens the door, and sits himself on the window sill. Cold air rushes in through the broken frame, and Todd shivers. He wonders how Neil enjoyed sitting here every morning, recalling the story of four lovers to the morning sun and a half-asleep Todd. 

 

What Todd would give to have a million more of those mornings.

 

He flips open the razor and studies it for a moment.  He doesn't allow himself to think, just makes two wild slashes on both of his arms. His eyes fill with tears at the terrible stinging, and the blade falls from his grasp, slick and red with blood. His head falls heavily to look at his desk. His vision is spotting around the edge, and he briefly thinks how embarrassing this would be if it didn't work.

 

His eyes roam over his desk set, his textbooks, and then-

 

The last thing he sees is Mr. Keating's letter, wishing him well. 


End file.
